Mimicry
by tapioca two-step
Summary: King of Light and Shadow getting shis-kebab'ed through the chest plus Majora looking to raise hell in Hyrule equals Ganondorf Dragmire's soul in Twilight Princess Midna's body. Dragmire's first order of business: find some damn clothes. Then start a war.
1. faithless fool

one: faithless fool

Again, I am floating in the dark. Or perhaps I am floating in light; light that is so intense that my eyes cannot register it and so all I see is darkness.

There was pain, a moment ago, pain that stole my breath and stopped my heart, but now there is nothing. I am not glad of it.

The Triforce of Power has failed me.

And in failing me, it has caused my death.

Din must think this situation is supremely funny. She is still linked to me; the power of the heavens still throbs in my bones. It is the first time I have known my patron goddess to withhold Her power from me. Perhaps She is tired of me. The feeling is mutual at this point; I have chased my dream for hundreds of years with the Triforce of Power under my command and I am still lacking. A lesser man would have given up by now.

But I am by no means a lesser man. I don't even think I am a mere 'man' any longer. Indeed, I am the King of Evil, Ganondorf Dragmire, scourge of Hyrule and all of those other wonderfully wicked names that are the stigma of ambitious people like me.

I am also dead, it seems. Impaled again upon that cursed sword wielded by the cursed boy that heaven sees fit to send after me as soon as I rise to any semblance of power. How strange, to be reborn and see the same faces over and over. They change like leaves with the passing of time but they grow new again and face me and the cycle continues, and it _will _continue, until the clocks wind down those final hours when _today_ catches up with _tomorrow_ and _now_ meets with _never_. I will see their faces, the other parts of our triangular whole, again and again until the Triforce is ripped from our hands.

And until I am able to open my eyes and _see _again, I will have to wait. I am used to it. Floating in Limbo like a leaf in the river is very conducive to organizing one's thoughts and planning one's next motions. For now I will rest and grow strong, and then I will escape somehow, and then I will return to my business as usual. The world will grow old, but I am already ageless. I have time.

But something is different this time. The vacuum of air around me feels different. Heavier. Occupied with a being other than myself. It seems to be murmuring to itself in a tongue that I cannot understand, at a volume level that is _almost _too low for me to hear. But this is _my_ empty space, and the other entity is an intruder, and I become suddenly heated. I'm about to shout out in anger at whomever or whatever is defiling my personal emptiness when a voice cuts through the silence as rudely as a sunbeam through shadows.

"It seems you have met with a terrible fate." The voice speaks in many tones, breathy and light as air, but with an underlying heaviness and solemnity that rather makes me think of my own accent. I turn my head, seeing nothing. I am a spirit in this dimension; I have no bodily form, but I still think of myself as being human in shape.

Total darkness swims all around me as I fall endlessly to nowhere. The voices have stopped muttering; they seem to be waiting for me to answer them.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I can make you breathe."

"That doesn't tell me who or what you are."

"I have been lost to the ages," the voices say, "and some would have me destroyed. They could not erase my existence, though; I am too strong for Death."

"Congratulations. Now tell me who you are and what you're doing here."

The voices pitch up. "I wish to free you. To let you live once more. To send you back to Hyrule."

"And what powers do you boast that you can so readily claim to be able to restore me to the world of the living?" I scoff, my voice growing louder. I am not used to others invading the quiet solitude of my limbo. It's quite distracting, and rather irritating.

Two white pinpricks appear in the darkness in front of me. I watch, mildly curious, as they grow like seeds into two orange-rimmed eyes, their colour darkening to red towards the green-rimmed irises. Their gaze holds me in an intense and unnervingly familiar stare. I've seen such eyes before.

"Long ago, I was alive," it says, whispering like it had a secret to tell. "I danced and granted wishes. When I died, they took my body and carved me to pieces. They didn't know what power they were dealing with. What fools." The laughter that echoes around me sounds like a child's, but the voices telling the tale carry echoes of eternity. This creature has old magic in it. Not as old as mine, of course, but it is of a different category, a different vein of sorcery. I cannot identify it.

"They thought they gave me the power to hex, not knowing I could do so much more. Slaughter was my forte. I was called cursed and sealed away. I have known freedom but once since then." The eyes shiver before me like I'm looking at them through a sheet of falling water.

"The echoes of letting the Land of Shadow clash with the Land of Light were felt unto the very depths of even the Gap Between Dimensions, but I was awakened from my slumber in the Twilight Realm, it seems, by your _death_, Ganondorf Dragmire."

_Ah. So this is indeed a Twili. _"I did not know that Twili were capable of intruding into…." I pause. For as many times as I have been in this place, I do not know if this is heaven or hell. It is what I have been given, time and again, known only in the secret places of my heart. "…Into here," I finish shortly.

"I am not of the Twilight Ones," the voices correct me, and suddenly a purple line wisps out of the space in front of me, curving around the eyes, forming a heart-shaped face; spikes grow out of its cheeks and the crown of its curved brow. "Their ancestors were my makers, but I was sealed away long before the Dark Interlopers were punished."

The face fills in with greens and purples and tawny yellows, all flashing like a fish's scales in sunlight. Its hue, indeed, is not the muted white and black of the Twili. The eyes had fooled me. They were the eyes of Zant, of Midna, and they spoke of the same sadness. And power.

"Where did you come from?"

"From the End, to make your Beginning."

"I'm sorry, but my understanding of cryptic riddles is limited."

The eyes float closer. It takes me but a moment to realize that the thing I've been talking to isn't a _who _at all. It's a _what. _A mask.

"I am giving you the key," it says in its voice of a thousand tones, "to unlock this prison and pursue what you most desire."

"I am not so much of a fool as to believe that you can actually accomplish that feat."

"But if I can?"

I don't know if I can grin, but my voice carries hints of humor when I speak again. "What animal does not dream of leaving its cage?"

The mask spins upside down in front of me. The voices seem to be talking amongst themselves, and suddenly they collect into one, single, booming tone.

"You are dead because you chased a dream. Your wishes are unfulfilled. I am cursed; I am a wish-granter. I was once called Majora and I will free you from this timeless void."

It says its name with more than a little hatred, but the gears in my head are beginning to turn.

"You can grant wishes."

"You wish for the Triforce."

_Who doesn't_? "The extent of your magic transcends Death?"

"I told you that it has no dominion over me."

_Din, your selfish protection of your precious Power didn't work this time. _

I can taste freedom on my tongue. I would be a fool to refuse this offer. There are hazards to rushing into this situation so quickly, but repercussions can be dealt with afterwards, when I can feel the wind on my face and solid ground underneath my feet. Power is tangible in Hyrule; not here. Somehow, the thought of spending decades here, contemplating a return, seems stifling, when mere moments ago I was resigned to the idea. Liberty does that to a soul. Open the door to a birdcage and its inmate will flutter into the wild, even though it knows there are predators and wintery conditions waiting. But still, a question lingers in my mind. This creature is too similar to me, and I seldom go to great lengths for others without deriving some benefit for myself. Call me selfish. The word suits me. "What's in it for you?"

The mask's eyes flash. "You have the power of the goddesses in your hand. When you gather the other two fragments of the Land of Light's glorious deities, I want you to open a door for me."

"Why can't you get out of here by yourself?"

"There are no cracks in the walls here," the mask whispers cryptically. "Not yet. Not yet."

"So I must return to Hyrule and break the seal between dimensions to set you free?"

"If you agree to the task."

"And if I don't fling open that particular threshold?"

The mask wags back and forth. "You are indebted to me for this offer." It floats closer. "You will be living on my borrowed power until the time you regain the favour of your goddess."

Its voices are hissing now. Warning me. I know the tone well.

"If what you are saying is true, then I will play your game with you," I say good-naturedly. "If you leave me to my business you will find that I am a very agreeable partner. I do not take orders well, but that is your difficulty to sort out."

There is a sound like laughter in the darkness; the mask flickers out and then reappears further away. I feel prickling in my weightless body when there should be no feeling at all. _Surprise, _I think. _This thing wasn't bluffing after all. _

"So be it, Ganondorf the Demon King. I shall release you into life once more." The voices are growing fainter; I feel like I'm being pulled up, up, up out of the deepest darkness anyone has ever known, and then everything grows intensely painful, and there is a strange sensation in my chest—_oh, my heart is beating—_and I am called back by the sound of birdsong.

"Rebirth is a beautiful thing," Majora's voice calls back to me like a memory, and then all is quiet. I sleep.

* * *

There is grass behind my body, dry and hard, baked by the sun that's blasting overhead in a cloudless sky. Suddenly I open my mouth and take in my first huge gulp of air, gagging on the action as the midmorning taste of grass in summertime goes down my throat like acid. I groan, rolling onto my side, coughing through my pain and trying to open my eyes to see where I am.

_That was…easy._

From my prone position on the ground, I look around the space I've just landed on. The land stretches away from me in a wide swath of grasslands that sweeps towards the horizon in patchy waves. It takes me a while to remember the name of the white stone bridge that glimmers in the distance—Eldin, I think it is—but when I see the blue spires of Hyrule Castle challenging the sky, I grunt with satisfaction. I've landed in east Hyrule Field. Less than a day's walk to the Castle.

Then I stop.

That noise I just made.

Did that noise come out of…_my _throat?

I clear my throat again, and my blood runs cold.

I sound…very different. I feel...even more different.

I sit up with a start and very hurriedly look down at my body.

Two. There are two of them. Small and round. Too small for my tastes, but they're there.

Narrow waist, nipped in. Full hips, curved out. Skin bleached white in some places and black in others. Small hands, long fingers. Hair the color of sunset, bound together with a stone ornament in front of my collarbone.

And breasts. Two of them.

I've seen this body once before, when I first shared my power with Zant. He had marched into the throne room in the Palace of Twilight and apprehended a tall, robed figure with a shock of orange hair and the widest eyes I'd ever seen. _Princess Midna, _Zant had said, and her face had turned hard as stone.

I am the King of Evil.

And I have been ressurected as a _woman._ A Twili woman.

If Din wasn't laughing before, She must be having a _fit _now.

* * *

(A.N.)

I wanted to make this a serious fiction but I'm so tired of death and destruction after the last piece I wrote that I think this'll be more lighthearted at first. I'll try to keep Ganondorf as in-character as I possibly can because there is nothing sexier than badass Ganondorf acting like a badass.

I'm tempted to call this a crack fic because the idea came completely out of nowhere. Ganondorf, King of Evil, reborn as…Midna, of all people? And Majora popping out of nowhere?

Okay, so I'm one of the people who shares the idea that the Mask was made by the Twili's ancestors. You can't deny the similarities.

I'm in the process of writing a book but I'll try to update as fast as I can. Also I'm in college so hush I have no time to be doing these things. Please tell me what you think--review, PM, or be one of those silly lurkers that reads a story and doesn't review. :3

Have a wonderful day!


	2. wide eyed wanderer

two: wide-eyed wanderer

At first, I can only stare.

When I last breathed this air—and it is fitting that I should rise again, here, from the place where I fell—I was strong. Sure. Made of muscle and iron and will. I was clad in armor and I had a huge scar on my stomach, a painful testament to my own immortality. A sword in my hand and a dream in my heart—those are my memories of life.

Back then, I was Ganondorf in mind and body and soul, and all three parts were one, and there was no living creature that was stronger.

Now…I am confused. My mind is here, and my soul. My body, however, is gone. What is now my 'body' is a skeleton, a wisp of air, compared to my former self.

That mask….

"Majora," I croak, almost startling myself with my own voice. The sensation is surreal—even more surreal than seeing naked mounds of fat where my plated chest armor used to be, last time I checked—and I have to put my hand to my throat and feel the vibrations of my voice to make sure that the husky and lyrical gargle that just came out of my mouth actually belonged to _me. _

"Majora, what have you done to me?"

No answer. I put my face on my hands and groan. I was a fool to have gone into the situation. I have been tricked, of course—but I quickly decide that is no matter. I have been granted a rapid rebirth. I am free.

The mask thinks it has me under its command. How amusing. I will play along with the mask as long as it suits me, but I was a god, once. I will be, again, and then I will no longer have to rely on a wide-eyed, painted piece of bone. I shall obtain all three shards of the power of the heavens and I will regain my body and all will be as it should. I am living on borrowed power but that will change. Soon.

But even so…this turn of events is unexpected. I am naked as the day I was born and not only that, I am a woman. A woman whose real form is, as far as I am concerned, gone. I crushed her like a spider when she confronted me in Hyrule Castle during our last confrontation. The Fused Shadow she wore on her head like a comical crown crumbled in my hands. Her power sighed away on the wind, and yet in this supreme twist of fate, I am whom I have slaughtered.

I have to concede this small victory to the mask. It certainly possesses a cruel sense of irony. My skin prickles in the heat of the midday sun, almost painfully. Twili cannot exist in the Land of Light. Perhaps this body has been altered, somehow. It still hurts to be in this kind of heat without any clothing for protection. I look down at my body, trying to force the reality of the situation into my head.

I am not Ganondorf the Gerudo, with time-worn muscles and sun-worn skin. I am Ganondorf the Twili, and I am a woman, and I suddenly feel very very ill at the thought.

I am a stranger to myself. Blueish skin, interrupted with swaths of dark charcoal that spread from my (_my?!) _breasts, across my back, and down my left leg. I am rather too thin and knobby, like a newborn foal. I figure that's what I'll look like when I attempt to stand up.

My prediction is correct. I rise to my feet with all the gawky grace of a duck with a broken leg.

The first thing I notice is that my body feels entirely too light, like I'm going to float away if I even do so much as jump. I must learn the limits of this new body quickly if I am to make short work of Hyrule as I'd planned.

Of course, I haven't had time to formulate a battle plan, but that is no matter. I am still Ganondorf the King of Evil, even if I am trapped in this ridiculous shape. I am a general and a demon thief and I hold a third of heaven in my hand. I can call up troops from the very ground I walk upon and they will follow me unto death.

_Which had better not happen this time around_.

But even as I think, the sun is starting its slow descent from its throne in the sky. I must begin mobilization at once.

I raise my arms and, trying not to grimace at the fluttering sigh that involuntarily escapes my lips—_it was supposed to be a grunt!—_I call forth Din's magic. The magic that I made mine so many years ago.

_Take form_, I coax the ground around me. _Help me get what I want out of this world._

Seconds pass. The dirt does nothing but blow in the wind.

Suddenly, the earth bucks underneath me, throwing me onto my back. I scramble to my feet, looking around. From across the hill there are sounds of agitated animals.

But nothing else happens. And suddenly I feel very, very tired. I start panting, my knees buckling under my own absurd lack of weight.

"What the hell was that?" I grumble. "What did I just do?"

I hear a snort ring out into the sweltering air, clear as a clap of thunder. I spin around as quickly as I can without losing my balance and falling onto my ass again, and when my eyes meet the source of the snort, I mutter a curse.

Apparently, instead of calling forth an army of evil, I have managed to piss off the local wildlife.

There's a fully-grown Bullbo standing an arm's length away from me, javelin tusks pointed straight for my gut. It's a wild one; no saddle adorns its back, no reins hang from its mouth. The stench reeking off of its massive, short-haired body nearly turns my stomach.

Usually, this wouldn't be a problem. Under normal circumstances, I could turn this beast into a holiday ham roast with the slightest flick of my wrist.

But these are not normal circumstances, and I don't even know if I can survive being in direct _sunlight_, let alone the impact of two tons of pigflesh crashing into my newly born body like a wave onto a beach. I hold out my hands and begin to shuffle in the opposite direction, trying desperately to get some handle on whatever sleepy magic currently resides in me. Surely, Din has not withdrawn herself completely from my presence? Majora commands potent magic but it certainly can't purge the power of the goddesses out of my body without my knowledge; yet I don't even feel like I can even do a decent card trick with my current arsenal.

The Bullbo lowers his head and takes a solid step forward, opening his mouth and blasting me with a squeal that nearly shatters my eardrums. And then it starts trotting forwards.

"Stay back!" I shout, wincing at the stomach-churning sound of my high-pitched voice screeching out from my lungs. I sound like a dying animal.

No matter. In a matter of moments I will probably _be _a dying animal, because, with a bellow, the pig charges.

For a second, I remember that I harbor deep and wonderful and terrible magic, and I stand my ground.

And then I remember that I am, metaphorically, a splinter compared to the mighty oak that my former body was. I do not know how my body will react to anything I try to do. I can't even stand up properly yet.

So I spin on my heel and run.

I'm sure that, to a spectator's eye, the situation would be supremely funny to witness. Watching other people running for their lives always gives one a morbid desire to laugh. If I could detach myself from this form and watch from a distance as a tall, blotchy-skinned woman without a stitch of clothing on her body pinwheels her arms in an attempt to stay on her feet as she hobbles across lava-hot grasslands being pursued by a massive raging swine, I should laugh myself sick.

But I'm not laughing now. No, I'm fleeing like a completely ossified bar hopper, gasping for breath, tripping over my own feet. I find myself mortified at the fact that I feel prickling in my eyes. Tears. This body thinks it's going to die.

I can feel its breath on the bare skin of my back. I want to stop running. I want to turn around and face it like a man. This traitorous female body of mine won't listen to me. At the rate my legs are going, I'm just as likely to throw myself off the edge of the canyon than get myself to safety.

Or trip. Which is what I have just done. With a squawk of surprise I sprawl unceremoniously on the ground and wish, for a moment, that I could just melt into the grass and not even _exist _any longer. If my troops ever saw me in such a disgraceful situation…I can't even dwell on that thought. It's too humiliating.

_How ridiculous, _is the only thing I can think. _I have been resurrected only to get trampled by—_

_Thwok_.

Something rushes by my cheek and thumps mutedly into the raging boar behind me. In a tremendous cacophony of snorts and screams and hooves striking flesh and flesh striking dirt, the boar catapults end over end, flipping in a blubbery mass into the patch of grass next to where I've fallen.

I get up shakily, trying to still my trembling legs. I don't know why I'm so terrified—this body has a mind of its own. It's treating my consciousness like a rejected limb graft.

The boar has curled into itself, lying halfway on its side on the ground. It has an arrow sticking out of its ear, the fletching quivering at the top of the shaft with the force of the impact. The animal is still but is snorting with exertion, trying to get its bearings after such a violent tumble.

I walk up to it cautiously, circling its boulder-like body, until I'm standing in front of its face. I raise my foot and am just about to deliver a savage kick to its sticky nose when a cry from behind me nearly startles me off of my feet.

"Stop!"

There's a drumroll of pounding horse hooves behind me, and I turn my head over my shoulder to see a horse coasting easily down one side of a slight hill on the field, its rider holding a finely crafted bow at his side. _Impressive, _I think unconsciously, _for him to hit a moving target from that far away and not strike me with the arrow instead_.

I regret the words the instant they are out of my mouth.

The horse is a red mare, tossing her snowy mane against the bright blue of the sky. Her gallop makes the ground tremble underneath my feet; she reminds me of my own war-horse, Galloughs.

Odd, how even the horses are reborn in our endless conflict.

The rider I would know anywhere, of course. Green, the color of life. He carries it upon his body like a brand. His shock of strawlike hair, the infuriatingly calm look in his eyes; they belong as much to him as they do to Zelda and me. We are one.

The crest of the goddesses on his hand sings out to me like a choir, hitting me straight in the heart like the bolt of an arrow. He is blessed, too. But I knew this. I also know I must take it from him.

The horse comes to a dusty stop in front of me, and the Hero alights from her back with grace that makes me jealous of my current predicament. I realize I'm standing here with my feet squarely planted and my arms crossed over my chest. Not for modesty, of course. I am facing my greatest foe, and I must face him like the warlord that I am.

But Link, the boy who would be Hero, doesn't see the man behind Midna's form. He sees someone, I suppose, who he thought was dead. He approaches me and looks down—_down!!—_into my eyes with a queer expression of confusion and wonder that looks like he's been slapped across the face with a fish.

He looks older than when I last saw him. Perhaps years. Perhaps decades.

"You…." He says softly, and reaches for me.

Hatred boils in my chest and I forget myself for a second as I step backwards and raise my hand to send a shockwave of dark magic crashing into him to knock him off of his feet.

"Do not presume to touch me, boy!"

And I stop, for I see my arm in the sunlight, and suddenly I realize that I am not what I think I am. The fact that nothing happens when I throw my hand out somewhat irritates me. My magic is still impotent.

Our eyes lock. His face is ashen and I'm shaking with rage.

Suddenly the Hero turns and walks back to his steed, fumbling in the rucksack that hangs from the saddle.

He turns back to me with a blanket in his hands. My nearly sunburnt skin fairly sings with the prospect of being protected from the light.

"You're naked," Link says. He is not smiling.

I look down at my body. And I sigh.

"Yes," I say, crossing my arms again. "Yes, I am."


	3. queen of light and shadow

three: queen of light and shadow

His eyes are ageless, but there is a lack of levity in his features that reminds me of myself when I was younger. His triangular green hat has been adorned by a golden helm with the symbol of the gods imprinted on the front; it looks uncomfortably heavy on his head. The smell of dust and threshed hay wafts off of his clothes. There is a scar on his face, one I've never seen before, one that wasn't there when I last clashed swords with him. I look to his horse. I see a flat, angular form wrapped in another blanket—a shield—covering a gilded blue scabbard. He is still a warrior, then. A valiant knight of Hyrule, rescuing damsels on his day off.

He offers the blanket to me, and I take it wordlessly, holding it limply in my hands. His silence is irritating me. It always does. When we fought, he never boasted of his power like I did. I was proud of my strength. He merely accepted his. He just kept fighting, silent and stoic and smug. I hated that about him. It seems I still do.

"What are you gawking at me for, boy?" I demand before I can stop myself, my voice sharp as a razor. Then, as an afterthought: "Haven't you ever seen a naked woman before?"

The Hero looks taken aback for a moment, and then he collects himself. "Not standing in the middle of Hyrule Field, no." He pauses awkwardly. "You…are you…Midna?"

_No, you incompetent fool. I am Ganondorf_ _come back from the realm of the dead to strike you down where you stand!_ I twist my mouth as the thought forms into words and make a strangled sound against my lips. I nod my head quickly instead.

"Are you sick?" Link draws closer to me again. I feel an intense urge to slap him.

_Damn it, Dragmire! The King of Evil does not _slap _people. Remember yourself!_

"It seems that you remember me after all," I say stiffly. Link shakes his head.

"But…you destroyed the Mirror of Twilight. You can't be her."

_Ah. So the little imp managed to survive my assault after all. She is indeed powerful to resist the strength of the goddesses._

"It seems that I am back." I say. The Hero is so flabbergasted that it takes a moment for him to collect his thoughts. He runs a rough hand through his hair.

"…But why?"

This I cannot answer. And so I do not try to. "I don't know."

He turns his attention to the Bullbo, walking over to its hulking form and pulling the arrow neatly from its ear. It squeals and scrambles to its feet, trotting away with a frisk of its tail.

"Twili do not cross the space between worlds to go cavorting with boars, stark-naked, in the middle of the day," he muses.

"I do not know why I am here," I say. I am not lying. I have no idea why Majora failed to restore my mind into my _own _body. Link looks at me, tapping the arrow against his palm. His face holds a mixture of joy and bewilderment.

"You're not in pain from the sunlight?"

"It hurts, yes."

"That's what the blanket is for." He sighs heavily. "I was on my way back to Ordon from Castle Town Market. I heard screaming and saw you and I thought…but this can't be real. Can it?"

I don't reply. He seems to be chewing a decision over in his mind. Meanwhile I'm trying to figure out how to steal his horse and make a break for it. Could I knock him down…? I must figure out a way to harness the magic power within me. Obviously Din is amusing herself by choking my connection with Her, but surely I must have some access to the old magic that Majora reanimated me with.

"Come with me," the Hero says suddenly. "Come with me back to Ordon. You can't stay here, and I can't think in this heat. We'll rest a bit and then we'll figure out…just what's going on." His eyes flash. "Midna…it's been years—"

"I will go with you to Ordon," I say quickly, and a little too loudly. Whatever connection the Twilight Princess and the Hero shared during their crusade against me, I do not wish to be a part of it.

_I swear to the gods, if they were lovers I will kill myself right now. _

Drawing the blanket over my shoulders, I begrudgingly follow him towards his mount, who has wandered idly away. I puff up a bit when I realize it was merely the slope of the hill that allowed for the Hero to look down at me. Standing at my full height, I tower a full head above him.

He runs his hands over his horse's twitching flank and then bends down to one knee, cupping his gauntleted hands together.

"C'mon, I'll help you get up," he says, looking up at me, a smile ghosting across his lips. I stare at him dubiously. _I'd rather step on your head and crush your face into the dirt_. My mouth almost forms the words but I manage to bite down on my lips and keep silent.

I walk tentatively towards the horse, but the animal suddenly starts and jerks its head towards me. The dark liquid eyes fix on my face and its nostrils flare. It lets out a snort and its back legs prance one or two steps.

I narrow my eyes. Its innate senses do not allow it to be deceived by appearances. The horse knows me. I meet its eyes and smile wickedly. At least, I suppose that it is a wicked smile. For all the control I have over this body, I'm probably baring my teeth like a rabid dog.

"Whoa, whoa; steady, Epona." Link makes a grab for the reins and brings the horse's head against his chest, giving her a stern look. "She doesn't usually react this way to strangers," he says, and then he catches himself. "I didn't mean that _you _are a stranger, Midna. I mean, Princess." He gives a nervous laugh. "It's just that, Epona has never seen you in that _shape_ before. Come over here and try again; I'll hold her head."

I snort on sudden amusement. If I go anywhere near that animal with the intention of riding it, I'll end up with a pair of hoof imprints on my face. "Nevermind," I say. "I'll walk."

Link fumbles with the leather reins in his hands. "But aren't you coming with me to Ordon?"

"That's what I said I was going to do, didn't I?" I snap impatiently. I notice the look on his face and silently curse myself for losing my head. The only interactions I ever had with Princess Midna were in battle; she was high-spirited and fearless, two things I well understand, but of her interactions with the Hero, I know nothing. And according to the look I'm getting, I'm going about this the entirely wrong way.

"It's a day's walk from here," he says, almost sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," I grind out. "I am perfectly capable of walking to Ordon Village with you and your horse." Each word sounds like it's been cut out of wood.

After a pause, he swings himself into the saddle easily, shifting a little to get comfortable, and then looks down at me. "You're sure?"

To prove that I am indeed _sure_—as if the one-time lord of these lands needs to deign to prove himself to this scruffy looking farmer-turned -hero—I begin striding across the ground towards the land bridge that leads from the field into the mountains. I hear the soft tap of heels against horseflank, and Epona falls into wary step beside me. She refuses to get within arm's length of me.

I very quickly realize that my mouth was talking ahead of my brain. A day's walk would have been fine for me to sojourn, had I been the _real _me. But the stick-legged Twili body of mine begins complaining not half an hour after we had pass through Kakariko Village. He repeatedly asks me if I want to change my mind but after his fifteenth query I fall completely silent.

I grit my teeth. Din curse me; I had forgotten that I didn't even have decent footwear. I refuse to let Link see my frustration, though, and I toss the blanket over my head so that it covers my eyes. I can feel his gaze piercing through me, but he is silent. Thinking. Watchful. All the while, his horse is acting like it's sharing the dirt pathway with a snake.

He is bringing me to his village. He must have a thousand questions. I don't think I can even answer one of them without giving the farce away. I do not act like Midna; I do not have her memories.

Perhaps he is leading me to where he can kill me quickly and quietly. Perhaps he already suspects.

I am at a loss. He _must _sense it; the divine power that courses through my soul is of the same essence as his. I am Din, and he is Farore. Aside from this, we are enemies, destined to fight forever. Even if I am in this body, he should at least be able to sense _that._

And yet his face showed no signs of suspicion. When he speaks, it sounds like a shy child talking to his idol.

What, indeed, should I say to him? Shall I tell him now of the true essence of my soul? Should we wage war here, now, in the stifling sunshine coming from a cloudless sky? I find that I am partial to swordfights in rainstorms. Would I be able to take him down?

He will not fight me. I inhabit the body of his former partner.

But if I came at him with the intent to kill, I have no doubt that he would realize that said former partner was…not right in the head, so to speak.

On the other hand, if I play the part of the Twilight Princess, and he believes me, I might be able to bend him to my will more easily. One catches more flies with honey than with black magic and undead armies.

Perhaps that mask had the right idea after all.

It is a sensible alternative. If I can only conquer this feeling of absolute hatred and frustration coursing through me, I will be rather pleased with my idea. My pride, however, has been dealt a rather savage blow. It takes every ounce of will I have not to shake the Hero by the shoulders and blare out that _I am Ganondorf, King of Evil, former lord of Light and Darkness and that even though I have been subjected to the pranks of an ancient hexing mask, I _will_ get my real body back and when I do so I will snap your neck like a stick in my hands. _

"Are you all right? You're talking to yourself."

His voice rudely shakes me out of my thoughts, and I grunt in reply.

After that, we walk in silence. I hold him up considerably but I am trying my damndest not to pass out on the road. It's the sunlight. It has to be. No physical body can be this frail.

Of course, it could be because I am unused to movement. I do not know how long I was lingering in Limbo. It must have been longer than I thought. Who knew that the strength of the mind correlated with the strength of the body.

But never mind that. I will overcome this temporary weakness. Eventually, I will triumph.

Hyrule Field moves past us, a living montage of scenery that never fails to leave me breathless—and it's not just because I'm, embarrassingly, unused to so much walking. I have always desired this. The raw wild existence of this blessed land, the fall of water against rock, the wind—ah, the wind—have tantalized me since my youth, ages upon ages ago. I come from a land of crushed rock and dry heat, where everything is searing and hard and resisting. In Hyrule, the land and its inhabitants are as pliable as clay. I could reach out my hand and curl my fingers and this whole green kingdom would shiver and bend to my power. In the Desert, I had to fight to survive. In Hyrule, people fell at my feet and worshipped me. They are too trusting. It makes them vulnerable.

I feel a twinge of desire in my heart. It is a primal call, to be sure, but it is familiar to me. I am the embodiment of Power; it is only natural I should wish to exert that strength.

_I want this_, I think as my eyes sweep from one end of the field to the other. Hyrule Castle cuts an imposing silhouette against the sky in the distance, and a sneer curls my lip. _Soon, Zelda. _

It is dusk before we enter the old growth forest of Ordon. By then, the soles of my two-colored feet are blistered to oblivion and my sweat has soaked through the blanket in a wide, wet stain. I have been muttering curses under my breath for hours, and although I am not sure that the Hero has heard them, he is certainly made aware of my fury when my foot catches on a sharp rock sticking up from the ground, nearly making me fall on my face.

"Curse the gods for these legs of mine!"

Normally, the sound would have been a growl of anger. Now every noise I make seems to prove that I have two moods: brooding and hysterical.

Link turns Epona halfway around, then alights from her back and walks over to me, reaching out to put his hand on my shoulder.

"Let me help you."

"That's a good way to lose your arm," I snap, jerking my shoulder out from under his touch. I can't help myself. I cannot keep a level head when he is so close. Usually I'm more…tactful. Guarded. This body announces my emotions like a horn-call.

The Hylian's eyes darken, and for the first time he frowns. I match his displeasure and cross my arms again, my hands balled into fists.

And in the dusky light of sunset, with the sound of leaves whispering against each other overhead, he accuses me.

"Ganondorf."

* * *

Now, now, don't jump to conclusions. :3 I can't give the secret away that early, can I?


	4. queen of light and livestock

four: queen of light and livestock

"Ganondorf."

I can't say I'm surprised; I half suspected that he knew who I was. The trouble is, _now _I don't think I can defend myself, much less possess the strength to face the Hero in an actual battle. Why did I follow him to this forest, anyway? He baited me; I relied too much on my outward appearance. It seems that underestimating this brat is a recurring oversight for me. It's bad habit. I am too prideful, I suppose. This does not bother me. Pride goeth before a fall, but I have been falling all my life. I am used to getting up, brushing off the dirt, and trying again.

"He's done something to you, hasn't he?"

Link's next question befuddles me. He? He who? Did he not just say—?

"Tell me, Midna. Has Ganondorf manifested himself in the Twilight Realm?"

_Din save me, this boy is as thick as iron_. "I told you I cannot remember a damn thing."

Link massages his left hand. "I can…I can sense remnants of his power in you," he admits, and his voice grows abruptly harsher. "The fiend probably put you under some kind of curse. I don't know how he managed to enter the realm of the living but I have no doubt that he's back. He's like a roach."

_Steady yourself, Dragmire_, I warn my body as my hand involuntarily curls into a fist.

The Hero seems to be talking to himself.

"We have to figure this out, in any case. Strange things have been happening around Hyrule for a while but I didn't think that it was that serious...and there's no way back to the Twilight Realm without the Mirror. Perhaps we can lure him to Hyrule somehow—" He stops himself and turns to me. "Do you remember anything, Midna? Anything at all? What were you doing before you woke up in Hyrule Field? Was there any warning beforehand?"

_I was floating in the nothingness that you condemned me to._

"If I have to repeat myself again I think I'll scream," I reply. "I know _nothing. _I was there, and then I was here. I feel so…lost." I struggle to keep the smirk off of my lips. It's a truly pitiful performance; I have to go about this operation delicately.

I try to keep my gorge down as I reach out and take one of Link's hands in both of mine. _Steady, steady_. "But I believe that I am back for a reason. I need to get back to my kingdom, and you're the only person I can turn to for help. I need you, Link. Please say that you'll help me."

He looks so lost. His fingers tighten against mine and I have to nearly bite through my tongue to avoid recoiling.

_Yes. Believe my lies, Hero. Have faith in me. Let me see how trusting you are. _

"I will do everything in my power to help you, Midna. It is my duty as your former partner and your friend."

How scripted. How sweet. How _perfect_. I smile wanly back at him as he beams up at me. He is a little boy again, looking up at me with awe. I very nearly have him in the palm of my hand. I must play the part, now. I can't let him see past the façade.

"Let's hurry to the village, then, shall we?" I quip lightly. Still holding my hand, Link turns and leads me down the path, clicking his tongue at Epona to follow him. The forest is shrouded in twilight now but the Hero's hand in mine is sure. The resonance of the two Triforces is enough to make my mouth water. Courage is as good as mine.

It is too dark to see much when we enter his house—_of course you would live in a stump, carrier of the ancestral title of Hero of Time_—but Link, ever the gentleman, points out the ladder that leads to a wooden platform sticking out of the hollowed-out tree trunk. There's another ledge, higher up, nearly twenty feet above the ground.

"You can sleep in my bed."

_I will die first. _"My back hurts; I'll make due against the wall. Thank you, though."

Thankfully, he doesn't argue. We are both exhausted from the stress of the day. Mounting the ladder himself, he waits until he reaches the uppermost platform to call down to me, "Sleep well."

Collapsing against an empty space on the curved wall of wood, I slide into a sitting position on the ground, on leg tucked under my body. My body that's not _mine_. The limbs that I'm looking at are false. I am a self-made prisoner. The back of my right hand is blank and cold.

_Din_, I call wordlessly. _You are there. I know You are. _

No response.

I rest my elbow on my raised knee and let my head thump against the wall behind me. Sleep does not take long to find me.

* * *

I wake up to complete darkness. For a moment I am disoriented; I immediately think that I am back in that endless space between Life and Death, always dying but never dead. The echoes of time do not reach me there.

_Some day, when this seal is broken…that is when I will exterminate your descendants! As long as the Triforce of Power is in my hand—!_

Ah, yes. I said that once, didn't I? How many lifetimes have passed since then?

Oft I find that I cannot remember who I am, or which incarnation of myself I happen to be residing within. I seem to be the only one of the Three who retains dim echoes of _who _and _what _I used to be. It is tedious, having to explain my ambitions over and over to the other two when they finally catch on. Perhaps this time I should overlook such trivialities.

But there are sounds in _these _shadows that make me realize that I am no longer lost to an eternal space; the scurry of small paws, the flutter of owl wings, the sounds of a breathing world all alert me to the fact that I am breathing right along with it. I have been allowed to walk the world once more. Something has freed me. I remember a face, a myriad of colors, and….

I raise my hand in front of my face. The room is black as pitch but strange markings on my arm glow coolly, illuminating the space around me.

Ah. So it wasn't a dream. Pity.

I sit up. I hear steady, rhythmic breathing on the ledge above me. I rub my temples, appalled at the situation. My eternal foe and I, _sleeping_ in the same room as each other.

My eyes are growing used to darkness, and there is some light coming from a heavy moon outside of the open "window" near the uppermost part of this dead stump that the Hero calls a home; thus I am able to easily lower myself down the ladder from the ledge where I was sleeping. The fire has burned out and the smell of smoke has been overridden by the smell of the night-blooming niphlox flowers, but the summer night warmly greets me as I open the door and wander into the dark.

Something is calling me. Nagging me, more like it; I feel compelled to _seek _something, even though I am not sure what I should be looking for. It is close by; I can sense that much. And it is waiting.

The red mare shifts in a grassy space next to her master's house. Her ears flick backwards when she catches my scent with her flared nostrils, and she stamps her foot in warning.

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual," I say. _Good goddesses, is this really my voice…?_

The Ordonians have treaded many pathways through the heavy trunks of their surrounding woodland; the dirt is worn smooth and feels decently cool under my blistered feet as I wander through the forest. I never thought I'd be thankful for such a small mercy. It will take a while for me to break this body in.

I come to a small junction in the woods. The path I have been walking leads straight over the wooden bridge that I crossed yesterday when entering the village, but a second trail leads through an ivy-covered gate and into a clearing, which houses a flowing spring, crystal waters turned silver with the light of the moon. The circle of trees around the spring shift in the wind, casting dancing shadows on the sand.

I set my jaw and enter the hallowed ground, crossing my arms when I see a figure standing in the middle of the pool of water, snatching playfully at a group of fairies dancing above its head, just out of reach. The form is transparent and I am barely able to make out the delineation of its limbs, but that doesn't matter. Its face is what I am interested in. It is shadowy like the rest of its form, but with each turn of its head, I can make out flashes of color. Majora.

"They won't come to you like that," I say dryly. "You have the eyes of a wolf."

"And you," the figure replies in a symphony of voices, "have the eyes of a _girl._"

It turns its back, but the head rotates on its neck and faces me. If the mask had a mouth, I'm sure it would be smiling.

"Tell me, _princess_, do you like your new dwelling? I must admit, you have adapted to it quicker than I thought you would! I guess you had no problem getting in touch with your more feminine side."

I bristle. "I hardly think it is beneficial for you to have brought me back in this condition."

"Ah, the dark wizard is concerned for my ultimate well-being! Thank you; but I will keep you as you are."

"Where is my real body, you little wretch?"

The figure's grasping fingers still. It turns towards me and smoothly raises its arm, the palm of its hand facing towards me.

"I think you had better watch your tone with me, King of Evil," it says. I am about to retort when something shatters inside of me and ignites my body with paralyzing agony. I clutch my chest, unable to draw breath to even scream. I feel myself being moved, and I dimly realize that I am being held above the ground, as if by an invisible hand. I can only watch with blurred vision as I am dragged through the air to hover in front of Majora's shadow. The mask regards me with its lidless stare.

"You thought you could escape our contract," it gently whispers, the voices belying its obvious anger. "Even though your mere existence depends upon _my _magic, you still thought of betraying me."

"It appears," I wheeze, my body recoiling with the pain lancing through it, "that you have a brain behind those empty eyes of yours."

Majora laughs, the sound high and hysterical in the small grove. The invisible hand drops me and I land with a mighty splash in the water, choking. The pain throbs once, twice, and then ebbs away until all I feel is a splitting headache.

"Judge not by appearances," it singsongs, dancing in front of me. "You'll learn that phrase quickly enough. I have taken great pains to make sure you don't slip the leash. If you want your true form restored to you, you had best work on finding a key for that door I want you to open. Until then…well." Majora crosses its arms, putting one hand under its pointed chin. "You will just have to deal with those swaying hips of yours."

"It seems you've already manifested yourself back into Hyrule," I spit back at him. "Why do you still need my help?"

Majora shakes its head. "You house a portion of my magic. Wherever my magic is, I exist also. Not in form, no. I have no form. Not yet. I still need you for that."

The figure is quiet for a few moments. Then it points absently at me. "When I wish to communicate with you, you will hear me." It brought its face close to mine. "And you _will _answer."

I don't reply. I don't have time to.

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, the quiet silver forest around me explodes with harsh golden light. I find myself kneeling in the spring, the water lapping at my thighs. The fairies have evacuated the premises. The shadowy figure wearing Majora's Mask is nowhere in sight.

It's morning.

_Have I been sleepwalking? _

And something is incessantly nudging the back of my head. I put my hand up to shoo whatever it is away; my fingers sink into something wet and slimy. I look hesitantly over my shoulder.

An Ordon goat is standing next to me in the spring. Its blue coat, flecked through with patterns of white, looks freshly trimmed but still rather to heavy for such a hot summer day. A lead rope trails from its single, circular horn and a hank of something orange hangs out of its mouth. I realize it's my hair.

"Stupid animal," I say, jerking my head away. The goat clamps its lips together in an attempt to rescue its 'meal'. "You can't eat this. You'll get colic. Leave it!"

The goat begins walking backwards and starts pulling me after it, giving my hair a few sharp yanks for good measure. Forced to follow it by the sheer pull of its body, I stumble along, bent over at the waist, all the while trying to shove my hands into the goat's mouth to get it to release me. I receive a ring of teeth marks around my wrist for the effort.

"Miserable creature; that _hurt_!" I am appalled to find myself complaining. If I had any idea how to control the magic in Midna's body then this goat would be roasting over a bonfire by now. I wouldn't _need _to resort to protesting like a child. "When I regain my true power, I will make sure that you will be the first course served at my coronation feast! I said let _go_!"

In a last-ditch attempt, I dig my hands into the goat's fur and rear my head back. The pull is so violent that a sharp pang shoots down my neck, followed by a tearing sound and the feeling of a huge patch of hair being ripped out of my scalp.

The goat spooks at the sound, and I find myself with both hands clapped to the side of my head, bellowing curses to wake the dead. The goat, kicking up its back hooves, bleats in triumph and prances down the path towards the Ordon Village, a decently large trail of sunset color held tightly in its mouth, blowing like a banner in the wind.

I return to Link's abode, locate a small hunting knife in the basement, and proceed to shear off every damnable inch of this ridiculous mop of hair. Since this, apparently, is going to be _me _until I can get _myself _back from that mask, I'm going to do damn well what I want to this body to make myself as dignified as possible.

Which means no more getting shoved around by goats.

Lesson learned.

* * *

It is always hard for me to write Link because he has always been the "silent hero" for me. Talking just doesn't suit him. My apologies for making him so stiff; I'll work on improving this.

Also, has anyone noticed there is an inordinate amount of Midna-hatred among LoZ fans? Good lord, I didn't really pay attention at first, but most people shit themselves when you mention L/M pairings. I'm not really a shipper of anything (if it's written well then I'll like it) but it still irritates me that people won't give a character their due just because of preconceived notions about how the fandom "works".

Please review (or don't :3) and tell me what I need to do to improve. Have a wonderful day!


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